You're My Mission
by catandsteph13
Summary: With Sam by his side, Steve sets out on the impossible task of tracking down Bucky. Trekking all over the globe in a desperate attempt to save Bucky, and others, from the anger of the Winter Soldier. It's his mission, and one he vows to complete.
1. Time Heals all Wounds, Keep Your Chin Up

A/N- Warnings: the end of this chapter gets violent, other than that nothing.

* * *

Steve was sitting at a small desk in his apartment flipping through the dossier Natasha had given him.

James Buchanan Barnes

The Winter Soldier Project

Department X

He skimmed most of it, because the details were just too painful. However he stopped on a page that read FAILURE in big red letters on the top. The page described a mission to kill Professor Zhang Chin, the Winter Soldier was about to complete the mission when he was thwarted by The Man with No Face. Steve smiled a bit, it made Bucky seem a little more human. The last thing in the folder was a crudely taken photo of about ten people standing around a tube. Which looked, to Steve, a lot like the one they put him in. The face inside the tube was blurry, but he had no doubt it was Bucky, or the Winter Soldier.

"Hey." Steve looked up to see Sam poke his head around the door. "You've been staring at that thing for like three hours, I'm hungry, want to grab some dinner? You're just beating yourself up reading that again and again."

Steve sighed but closed the folder and got up. Before walking out into the mid-September air, he grabbed his coat. As he walked alongside Sam, he shoved his hands in his jean pockets, only half listening to whatever Sam was going on about. He thought it sounded like football or something along those lines. He couldn't stop thinking about Bucky, and he couldn't hide the fact that he was really worried. He had this unshakeable feeling that Bucky was going to do something incredibly bad or stupid.

"I'm in the mood for Chinese." Sam said. "What about you?" But Steve didn't answer, still lost in thought. "Hello? Anyone home? Earth to Steve." He waved his arms in front of Steve's face.

"Oh, sorry, yeah that's fine." Steve mumbled. "I guess I'm just a little distracted."

"Look man," Sam started. "I'm worried too, but Rome wasn't built in a day. We'll find him."

"I know but he's my best friend."

"Don't worry buddy we'll find him, just as soon as we have dinner."

"What if I told you I think I know what he's going to do?" Steve asked as they rounded the corner to the restaurant. It was a small place, with red overhangings, slightly blue tinted glass, and little lanterns hanging on the inside. It was a family run place that had been in the D.C. area since about the 1920's. Sam had first brought Steve a couple months ago and Steve had fallen in love with it. He loved getting to know the family and the small town close knit feel. "What if I told you I don't think it's going to be a good thing either."

"Then I'd tell you to tell me," said Sam, his eyes showing the growing worry that his body refused to convey. Steve opened the door and a little bell jangled, hitting the metal door frame.

"Let's order first," Steve said. "Even super soldiers have to eat."

A man walked in, not looking at Sam and Steve. "Hello and welcome to Yùnqì, would," it was then in his regular speech that he looked up. "Ah Steve, Sam my two favourite customers, your usual table I presume."

"Thanks Hui Sòng, you're the best!" said Sam giving the man a huge smile. Both Steve and Sam sat down while the man took their order. Steve wasn't really sure what he ordered but he had no doubt it was good.

"So, you gonna leave me hanging?" Sam said when Hui had walked away. "What do you think the Winter Soldier is gonna do."

"I don't think he is completely Winter Soldier anymore. He saved me. Sam, he remembered me, even if it was only for a second. I have to help him. It's what he'd do for me." Steve said fiddling with his fork. "I think, that there still is a small part of him that is the Winter Soldier and that's what worries me."

"And..." Sam said leaning towards Steve.

"This." Steve said pushing the old photo across the table. Sam picked it up, looking at it his mouth formed a silent 'oh' in understanding.

"So, you think he's gonna try to find these people and kill them?"

"That's all I got," Steve said leaning back in his chair, smiling at Hui as he set the food on the table.

"What's this?" said Hui looking at the photograph. Hui had been really helpful in keeping Sam and Steve off the radar for most of the summer, so he had a bit of an idea of what was happening in their lives. "Is that..? Oh, Steve I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I think we've finally found him."

"Oh that's wonderful" Hui said. "I assume that means you'll be leaving the D.C. area. Remember, if you ever need help or a familiar face, just let me know." He smiled then tapped on the table. "Dinners on me, you may not get the same great hospitality for a whole if you're chasing _him._"

"Thanks Hui, it means a lot." Sam said.

"No problem." Hui said as he walked away.

* * *

Sam and Steve walked out of Yùnqì quite full and fully determined. The sun was on the horizon and falling fast. So they walked quickly to get home before dark. Sam's apartment was small and nestled in the back corner of a bunch of back streets. Steve flicked on the lights when they walked in.

"I really ought to clean this place up," Sam said.

"I don't think we're gonna be back here for a while," said Steve glancing around at the messy apartment. He pulled the photo out of his pocket and sighed. "Except how do we know who Bucky'll go after first?"

"What's the date on that photo?" Sam asked.

"1986"

"Well are any of those people dead?"

"That sounds like a good place to start."

Sam took the photo out of Steve's hands. "I'll take the first half of the names, you take the second."

"As good a way to start as any." Steve nodded. Sam jotted down the first five names and then put the photo back in Steve's hands.

"Well I'll get on these." he said "See you in the morning." He waved his hand in Steve's direction and disappeared into his bedroom. Steve collapsed on the couch rubbing his hands on his temples. He rolled his head to the side and glanced down at the photo in his right hand. _'What am I doing' _he thought as he grabbed his laptop and pressed the power button. He looked at the names on the list: three men and two women. He wasn't too familiar with Russian but knew that much. He wasn't really that savvy with computers yet, but with the help of google, and a few probably illegal tips from Natasha, he found everyone on the list.

Vera Evanoff: deceased 1992, a car 'accident'.

Nikolay Laskin: 45 residing in Cairo, Egypt .

Ivan Wolsky: 65 still in Russia, actual location unknown.

Svetlana Orloff: deceased 1987, apparently assassinated by an unknown person, who Steve assumed was the Winter Soldier because it sounded like all the others he was credited with.

Alexei Chaplinski: 48 presently living in Yellowknife, Canada.

Steve glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers reading 1:00 a.m. He shut the laptop and set in on the table. Rolling back he stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to forget about all this just for the night.

* * *

_"Hey Steve, catch." Reflexively Steve looked up and caught the baseball. He, the post-serum version of him, was standing in an old rundown alley, with dust swirls moving every time the wind blew. He looked in the direction the ball had come from and saw a sixteen year old Bucky smiling back at him, baseball mitt protectively in front of his chest. "You can do it, just try to aim a little more this time." Bucky waited patiently for Steve to throw the ball back. Steve knew Bucky would catch it, because this was the first time he had ever thrown a baseball straight. He threw the ball in Bucky's direction and shielded his eyes from a beam of sunlight that was reflecting off something metallic. He removed his hand when he heard Bucky shout. There was a gun pointed at Bucky's head and a hand wrapped around his throat. Suddenly Steve knew where the glare had been coming from. A metal arm held the gun to Bucky's head and the Winter Soldier stood behind him smirking. _

_"You can't save him, Steve." The Winter Soldier called from where he stood about twenty feet away. "You failed. After everything he did for you, you couldn't save him." _

_Suddenly sixteen year old Bucky faded and Steve stood alone in the alley facing the Winter Soldier who had halved the distance. The gun now pointed at Steve. _

_"Bucky, please, I'm coming to help you. I'm going to save you." _

_"No!" The Winter Soldier shouted "I was supposed to kill you! You're not supposed to help me! I don't know you! I hate you!" He fired the shot and it landed in Steve's stomach just as it had on the Insight Helicarrier. Steve's legs gave way and he landed on his back, dust swirling around him as he impacted the ground. The Winter Soldier drove his foot into Steve's stomach pushing the bullet in further and causing more blood to ooze out of the wound. Steve immediately cried out in pain. The Winter Soldier then unloaded another bullet, this time, into Steve's right arm. "Shut up" he growled, his long hair falling in his face as he leaned further over. His metal arm clutched Steve's neck hauling him up from the ground, slamming him into the nearest wall. Steve let out a quick gasp and his legs struggled, trying to reach something solid. _

_"You were made to save people Steve. You were supposed to be the hero." He was inches from Steve's face and now Steve could plainly see tears streaming down the Winter Soldier's face. "You were supposed to be there for me, like I was for you." Another bullet in Steve's left foot. "Stop struggling." He growled, his emotionless mask re-appearing for a moment. Steve fell limp as he was lowered enough so his feet would touch ground. His breaths were coming in short gasps now as he struggled with the lose of blood and lack of oxygen caused by the metal hand around his throat. "I can't believe I once trusted you. You're a miserable excuse for a friend. I don't want you to save me. You lost that privilege years ago." He threw Steve on the ground again and walked back towards the street. "You failed, Steve." The Winter Soldier said as he turned around one last time and shot Steve in the middle of the chest. He threw the gun on the ground and shoved his hands in pockets Steve didn't know he had in that uniform. As Steve gasped through painful breaths he heard the wind carry the whisper "You failed." _

_"No, Bucky, please." He gasped out as his view faded to nothingness. _

"NO, BUCKY!" Steve awoke with a start and realized his throat hurt. Apparently that was his voice just then. He reached his hand up to rub his eyes and he felt his face was raw and wet; he had been crying too. He looked over and saw the clock read 8:45 a.m. He had slept over seven hours, not like he felt rested. He glanced up and saw Sam resting his head on the door frame with his arms crossed, an understanding look on his face.

"Rough night?"

* * *

A/N

Hey guys. I hope you enjoyed this I stared at it for twenty minutes before finally getting the courage to publish. Comments/constructive criticism always welcome. I'll try to update soon but I proofread a lot, so all bets are off. Go check out Cat's story on our profile.

Until next time,

Stephanie


	2. Step on the Soil of Many Contries

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked. "This kinda used to be my job."

"Nah." Steve said resting his face in his hands. "It's not important. What did you find last night?"

Sam didn't pry any further at that point. "Well all dead, in accidents I'm inclined to say were not accidents, except for this one girl in this Canadian city called, uh" He snapped his fingers, racking his brain for the name. "Y something, um."

"Yellowknife?" Steve supplied.

"Yeah, how'd you know." Sam said walking to the kitchen pulling out a pan from the cabinets and getting the egg carton from the fridge.

"Alexei Chaplinski," answered Steve who had followed Sam to the kitchen. He got two plates out of the drawers along with forks.

"Am I supposed to know that name?" Sam laughed. "Or is it some super secret 1940s person."

"Nope. One of the people I looked up last night. Currently residing in Yellowknife, Canada."

"Well," Sam said sitting down at the table to eat. "Looks like we have a winner."

"I guess it doesn't surprise me," Steve said. When Sam gave him a puzzled look he continued, "Canada is cold, Russia is cold. Not only are there two people living there who worked on the Winter Soldier project, but it's also somewhat familiar."

"So," Sam said pointing his fork at Steve. "When do we leave?"

"Soon as possible," Steve said. "Buck already has a long head start. But he never was the best with technology even in the forties. It probably took him until now to even understand technology. I called Nat last week, she said she'd look into tracking him down."

Almost on cue, Steve's phone started buzzing on the couch. Steve threw his dishes in the sink and grabbed his phone. "It's her." Sam nodded as Steve hit accept. "Hey, Nat. Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah, he flew out yesterday to Edmonton International with a connection to Yellowknife, and rented a car. Also had a box shipped out there."

"Awesome thanks, Nat. Tell Clint I said hi."

"How did you. . . never mind I don't care. Good luck, Steve." She paused. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Steve hung up. "Change of plans, we leave now. Pack your bags."

"For Canada!" Sam exclaimed. "Do you even have a valid passport?"

"Nope, but I'm flying."

"Uh no offense Steve, but last time you flew a plane, you crashed it into an iceberg."

"On purpose. Trust me I can fly." Sam rolled his eyes but disappeared into his room. Steve threw all of his clothes into his suitcase along with only the most necessary toiletries and grabbed his shield. He walked outside to Sam's more than gently used truck, tossing his bag and shield in the bed and hopping into the drivers seat.

"Okay." Sam said slamming the passenger door closed. "Natasha has told me about you stealing a truck, I assume you've taken a bike once or twice, but how the hell are you going to steal a plane."

"Stark made me some connections, so don't worry, we're not stealing."

"Well that's slightly disappointing, I really wanted to see you steal a plane, man."

Steve smiled for the first time since last night. He was still shaken by his dream and he was worried about what may happen when they did reach Bucky.

* * *

Roughly four hours later, they were in the middle of a large field in New Jersey, a small plane sitting at the edge.

"Oh so not only do I get the worlds oldest pilot but we're flying all the way to Canada in that?! That's a plane you fly in the Alaskan wilderness, not across an entire country!"

"It's Starks plane," Steve said. He turned to Sam and smiled, "it has a few.. minor.. improvements."

"Well if it flies itself, then God bless that man." Sam said as they walked towards it.

Steve opened the pilots door after securing his shield and their luggage in the back.

"Why is your bag so big?" Steve asked closing the door and putting the key in the ignition.

"Got my wings fixed."

"By who?"

"Hui"

"I swear that man is magical." Steve smirked and shook his head. He watched as Sam gripped the armrest. He turned the key and Sam sigh in relief as the autopilot took them up into the sky.

"Were you trying to give me a heart attack?"

* * *

"You know it is important," Sam spoke up somewhere over Manitoba. "You can't get help without talking first." Steve took a deep breath.

"But if it doesn't happen it doesn't matter." Steve said trying to brush Sam off. He knew his dreams were just his subconscious totally hating him and messing with him; he didn't want to drag Sam into something unnecessary.

"Three a.m."

"What?" Steve was startled by the random fact Sam had just blurted out.

"Every night since you've been crashin' on my couch, you start screaming at three a.m. You're freaking me out, man. You never talk about it and I'm just trying to help a friend."

"Sorry," Steve said as blush began to creep onto his face.

"Dude, before I started talking, I couldn't close my eyes without seeing Riley get shot out of the sky. But I got help; it doesn't hurt any less, but I can sleep at night, he isn't still around haunting my dreams constantly."

"It's my fault," Steve started.

"No," Sam interrupted "it wasn't, I read the reports Steve it wasn't. You did everything you could. Hell, you did more than most people would."

"It's always the same," Steve continued as though Sam hadn't spoken. "Bucky... the Winter Soldier, invades some childhood memory and tortures me always saying its my fault." He looked up at Sam. "How could it not be?"

"You risked your own life, disobeying direct orders to go miles behind enemy lines just to save that kid, and you did, along with countless other men. There are some circumstances you can't control, it's learning to move past those. You're a hero, not a failure."

"You know you're a lot like him," Steve said.

"How?" Sam was intrigued to know what his big speech had elicited.

"When you both look at me, you don't see Captain America, you just see Steve; that means a lot." Steve smiled his third smile that day, hoping it wouldn't be his last.

* * *

Steve and Sam hadn't realized how long this flight would actually be, so they hadn't really brought anything to do. A message flashed across the screen telling Steve they were about to start their descent. Bored out of his mind he grabbed the phone to the intercom system, which frankly he wasn't sure why Tony had installed an intercom system in a plane smaller than a breadbox.

"Gentlemen, we will be starting our descent into Yellowknife." He spoke into the intercom. "Please return all seats to an upright position and stow all tray tables. I'm not sure what the weather is in Yellowknife, as I forgot to check before we left but," he glanced out the plane window. "it looks, um, you know Canadian. I can't see the sun and it feels windy but that may just be the breadbox we're flying. Thank you for flying with us today and we hope you enjoy your stay in Yellowknife." He hung the phone back up and looked at Sam; they both proceeded to burst into laughter for about five minutes.

Before they landed Steve took control back from the autopilot and landed them in a field outside of the city. They pushed the plane into a small wooded area so no one would question a random crop plane in the middle of a field. Steve shoved his shield into his bag so he wouldn't draw attention. The last thing he wanted was Bucky to freak and run.

"Do you know what you're gonna say to him when we find him?" Sam asked as they walked into the outskirts of town.

"I was hoping to cross that bridge when we get there." Steve said truthfully. Sam nodded, he couldn't even imagine what he'd say if this was Riley.

They walked in silence for a little while until they got towards the middle of town.

"I'm Grant by the way," Steve said. "Thought I'd let you pick your own name."

"Thomas, if we're going by middle names," Sam said. "Why the aliases?"

"Well right now SHIELD and its affiliates aren't exactly the worlds favourite people."

"Valid point," Sam said. "Where we stayin?"

"Didn't exactly plan that far ahead besides we're two hours behind."

"Steve! We can't just throw ourselves into this without thinking! We're not gonna take down the Winter Soldier without a plan."

Steve grimaced. He hated to think of Bucky that way, but he didn't see an alternative. He knew his friend was buried under there somewhere but he was being suppressed by whatever the Russians and HYDRA had placed there.

"I have a plan it just doesn't really involve reservations," Steve said. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket with two addresses on it. "Where first?"

"I google-mapped it before we left because I knew you wouldn't, they're a block away from each other, in that direction." Sam said pointing behind him.

Steve gave him an annoyed look. "You didn't think that would've been useful information back there?!"

Sam smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Just wanted to see if you had actually been prepared." Steve just sighed.

* * *

A/N

hey guys,

I have never driven to New Jersey from D.C therefore I'm estimating. I have also never been to Canada, so I apologize for any inaccuracies in this chapter and any future inaccuracies.

Stephanie


	3. Hope is What Keeps Us Alive

Another hour later Steve and Sam found themselves walking down the streets of a small suburban development on the south side of the city. The air was brisk, a harsh wind whipping about, and the clouds were dark and ominous, threatening precipitation.

"Two more blocks." Sam said pulling out a piece of paper. "Should we split up? We have a better chance of catching him that way." Steve shook his head and buried himself deeper in his coat.

"No, I don't want to risk one of us getting hurt."

Sam complied; he knew Steve had a point. If one of them were injured it was more or less game over, even though he knew they were risking two other lives by not getting there faster. He momentarily thought of Natasha's warning and wondered if he fully understood the 'string' he and Steve were about to pull. "It's this street here, number 27, Mr. Alexei Chaplinski."

"That brick one up there?"

"Looks like it." Sam replied. "Do you know what we're going to do if the guy is dead?"

Steve sighed; he really had not thought about any of this. He just wanted to bring Bucky home. "Honestly, no. But as bad as this sounds, I don't think there's anything we can do."

"The man with a plan not having a plan for the second time today. I'm starting to think that was an ill-planned title." Sam chuckled as they walked up the little cobblestone path that lead to the harsh exterior of a small brick house.

Sam gestured to the door they had just reached. "You do the honors." Steve smiled but knocked. However instead of making a solid sound the door fell open giving a high pitched creak. The men all but chucked their bags in the bushes. Steve grabbing his shield and Sam, a gun. Sam pushed the door the rest of the way and Steve walked in slowly, shield up. There was a single hallway with a staircase at the back and four doorways leading up to that. Steve nodded his head to the two doors on the right as he ducked into the first on the left. There wasn't much in the way of furniture. Just a small wooden desk, that he made a mental note to come back and check for anything important, a matching chair and an accent rug. There were built in bookshelves on the wall facing the yard, but not big enough for someone to hide in.

The first room on the right was as austere as the one Steve saw, with only a couch and a fireplace. _Wow_ Sam thought _I guess years of communism rubs off on a person._'

The other two rooms were a kitchenette and a small half bath. Sam glanced up the stairs and gave Steve a curt nod, giving him the signal to go first. The first two stairs stayed silent but the third made Steve curse his size as it gave a groan under his massive form. Steve froze and glanced worriedly back at Sam. Sam was straining his ears listening for any movement. Steve lifted his foot gently off the step and skipped over it with his other. Sam followed slowly making sure to skip it as well. There was a single door at the top of the stairs. The door was closed but not locked, resting on the latch. Steve took a shaky breath, raised his shield to cover his chest and the bottom of his face, and pushed the door open.

He had prepared himself to see so many different things behind this door. Evidently a dead Russian with a star carved into his left shoulder and a knife in his chest was not one of them. Sam pushed by Steve into the room. Steve was frozen in the door, shield hanging by his side.

Steve vaguely saw Sam kneel down and check the man for a pulse. His mind was to busy supplying him with countless awful scenarios that would cause Bucky to do this. The old Bucky would only have killed someone had they been about to kill Steve. Tears he vowed to never shed threatened to spill over as he imagined Bucky tortured to the point where he would murder like this.

"He's gone." Sam snapped him back to the present.

"That woman that you found," Steve said. "What if she's..."

"Oh" Sam said realizing what Steve was implying and they both bolted back down the stairs, still skipping the third step. Throwing their stuff back in their bags they had retrieved from the bushes, the pair took off down the street.

"Where's her house?" Steve asked in between breaths.

"Two streets south, number 31." Sam replied already breathing much heavier than Steve. Before Sam could stop him, Steve was half a block ahead of him. "Steve, wait!" Sam called out in a fruitless attempt to slow Steve down.

Steve turned the corner and vanished from Sam's sight. He wasn't sure if he was running faster to save the woman or in the hope that Bucky may still be there. Whatever the reason, he ran faster.

It was a quaint little house. It had only one floor and the backyard had a picket fence around it. He was about to go try the door when he saw the lock on the gate to the backyard was broken. He yanked his shield back out of his bag and dropped his bag just inside the fence. The back door was open just like the front door at Alexei's house. Light on his feet, Steve began his trek through the house. Much like Alexei's house hers was reminiscent of pictures Steve had seen of Soviet Russia; there was only the necessary furniture and the walls were all blank, a dull off-white shade of paint covering them.

He was in the kitchen when he heard a sharp intake of breath from a room down the hall. He moved as quickly and quietly as his feet would allow. He pushed the door open and saw the woman propped up against her bed with a star carved on her left arm and a knife in her chest. Steve approached her setting his shield down without a thought.

"оглядывайся" she gasped out.

"Please, ma'am I don't understand Russian." Steve pleaded with the woman.

"оглядывайся" she repeated, with a final breath she said, "пожалуйста оглядывайся"

Steve hung his head, clenching his eyes shut as he watched the woman die. He sighed, knowing every life he didn't save was more blood on Bucky's hands and more reason for him to hate himself later. A strange silence fell over the room and a bad feeling shivered down his spine.

"She said behind you."

Steve spun around, on his feet in an instant, fists up prepared to defend himself. For the second time that day he wasn't prepared to see what he saw. Bucky stood in front of him in a hoodie one size too big and old, faded, and frayed jeans. He held a metal pipe in his right hand and there was a glove covering his left. He looked slightly thinner, but maybe that was just the lack of leather and Kevlar, and his hair was about an inch longer than before. But it was his eyes that were the worst. They were too old for his face, seen to many horrific sights, and they betrayed his exhaustion and confusion in a way the rest of his body refused to. "You should listen."

"Buck..." Steve felt a sharp pain to the side of his head and the whole world went black.

* * *

A/N

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! I was too busy distracted by doing nothing in summer.

I'll try to update sooner next time

with love,

Stephanie


	4. The Rain Comes Before the Rainbow

"Steve!" A voice called from far away. Attempting to drag Steve out from the black abyss he was currently in. "Steve!" The voice called again. Steve felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back into reality.

"Sam?" He asked, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He squinted at the sudden harshness of the daylight. The recent events came back to him and he sat up suddenly. He instantly regretted it as pain rushed to his head. "Where's…"

"Bucky?" Sam completed. "Gone, saw him running down the street when I was about three houses down. Figured since I didn't see you hot on his trail it'd be more prudent to come find you."

Steve groaned and slowly fell back to the floor. He rubbed his face and said, "So all we have is two dead, a missing ghost, and a headache."

"Hey, man," Sam replied with a smirk, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "The headache's all yours."

* * *

Steve finally dragged himself up from the floor of the bedroom, disregarding his throbbing head. He glanced in a mirror and saw the left side of his face becoming nice shades of purple and blue.

"Might want to pull your hood up," Sam commented. "I don't think that's something you want everyone to be seeing."

"Good point." Steve said as he pulled up the hood of his jacket. The pair walked back outside, and Sam gently closed the door. The wind had picked up and the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. The sky had turned an ugly black; the low growl of thunder could be heard in the distance.

"It's gonna be a big storm." Sam said nodding up at the sky. "Think I saw a small hotel about a mile north. We might be able to make it before the worst of it."

Steve just nodded as he slung his bag over his shoulder after replacing his shield. Sam opened the gate and started to walk down the path. Halfway down he noticed Steve wasn't with him. He walked back up to where Steve was standing and put a hand on Steve's right shoulder.

"You gonna be okay?" Sam asked.

"What do we do now?" Steve asked. "Is it even worth it? Is there even anything we can do?"

"Look we just need to rest, figure out where we need to go…"

"No you were right," Steve interrupted. "I should've thought this out more."

"Well when we're looking back on this in forty years and laughing about it, then I'll say 'I told you so'. But right now it's going to start downpouring and I'd rather not be caught in it. And besides, we went all the way to Canada" Sam said, squeezing Steve's shoulder "he's got to be worth it."

Steve smirked slightly and reluctantly followed Sam down the path. As they walked further north the rain started coming down harder and the two broke into more a jog, attempting to outrun the worst of the storm.

* * *

They reached the hotel about five minutes later, thoroughly soaked. A little bell chimed when Sam pushed the door open. There was an older woman sitting behind the counter reading a book. She looked up as Sam and Steve walked in and put on a smile. Steve stayed by the door as Sam walked up to the counter.

"Welcome," the woman said. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi ma'am," Sam said courteously. Steve had come to notice, that, while people always thought no one could be more polite than him, Sam was equally as polite. "Reservation for Thomas."

"Ah yes," the woman replied after glancing down at a computer screen. She turned around and grabbed something off the wall. "Here is your key. It's room 142, down the hall and take a left. It'll be the second room on your right."

With a smile Sam took the key and beckoned to Steve to follow. As they wandered down the hall, following the directions Steve asked, "So when did you have time to book a hotel room?"

"Somewhere in the hour walk down here." Sam opened the door and they found themselves in a room, not much bigger than the living room in Sam's miniscule apartment. It had two twin size beds and a chair, but not much else in the way of furniture. As a flash of lightning lit up the room, they saw the bathroom wasn't anything to brag about either, but it would work for their purposes.

Steve flicked on the light and Sam threw his bag on the bed closest to the window. "Dibs on the shower first." he called. "You can do some detective work; my laptop is in the front pocket of my bag" With that the bathroom door shut and Steve was alone in the room. He took off his sopping hoodie and laid it on the back of the chair, hoping there was some small chance it would dry by morning. Noticing a small mirror on the wall, he glanced at his reflection. The bruise was already fading and the throbbing in his head had reduced significantly.

He grabbed Sam's laptop and settled on the other bed. He had decided against bringing his own because his shield took up most of the room in his bag. Natasha, being Natasha, had her own private tracking system that she had created well before the fall of SHIELD and completely under their radar. This meant it was still fully functional, if you had the password, which she had gladly given to Steve a while ago before he had completely understood computers. He accessed the system easily and pondered how to find whatever trail Bucky might've left. He started going back through the systems history to see how Natasha had found him the first time. When he found it, he was even more impressed with Natasha. The evidence that Bucky had even decided to go to Canada was weak at best. Following the same trail of money, and simultaneously wondering where Bucky got it, he found Bucky staying at a hotel on the opposite side of the city. He had also purchased a plane ticket for Cairo, Egypt. The name Nikolay Laskin came into Steve's mind. At that moment Sam emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam following.

"You leave me any hot water?" Steve asked cocking an eyebrow.

Sam just rolled his eyes. "What'd you find Sherlock?"

"Cairo," was Steve's reply.

"Hey, at least it's warmer," Sam smiled. "When does his flight leave."

"Well if the weather clears, 10 a.m." Steve looked back at the laptop. "Nothing is flying out in this weather."

"Any chance we could? Get there before him? You said Stark souped up the plane."

Steve shrugged his shoulders but shook his head. "As great as that would be, Stark can only do so much to a rinky-dink plane like that." He powered the laptop off and closed it. "My turn to shower, I may catch a cold from these wet clothes."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah I doubt that, supersoldier."

* * *

Steve was hesitant to fall asleep. He wasn't exactly excited to have another nightmare. But even with the serum, his body needed sleep.

"_Steve," a voice called his name. Steve turned, following the sound. There Bucky stood, except, it was the present day version of him, metal arm and all. That was different. "Steve, help me." Bucky said moving closer, "There's so much blood, so much..." His voice failed him and now he was close enough that Steve could see the blood. And Bucky was right, there was so much blood. His metal arm was practically gushing it. Blood was pooling in the cracks of the metal and running down it. It was dripping off his fingers and forming a puddle on the ground. The rest of Bucky looked similar to what he had today in that woman's house, except dirtier and sadder. His long hair weighed down heavily around his face, with the grime of what looked like seventy years. His clothes were torn and covered in dirt and dried blood. _

_Steve took a couple steps forward until only about two feet separated them. Now it was worse, because he could see the tears coming down Bucky's face. As if suddenly weighed down by an unknown force, Bucky collapsed, but Steve was close enough to catch him. He lowered both of them to the ground, Bucky wrapped in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. _

"_Get me out, Steve," his voice was laced with so much pain and sadness that it brought tears to Steve's eyes. "Oh my god, Steve, please help me, I can't do this without you." _

* * *

Steve woke to the sound of an incessant beeping from the hotel alarm clock. He could feel his face was wet and didn't particularly want Sam to see him crying, so he lay there trying to wipe the tears off his face until the alarm woke Sam.

* * *

A/N

This chapter is really unedited sorry. If there's any mistakes please let me know and I'll fix them right away.

Hope you liked it! Please review if you get the chance, it inspires me.

check me out on tumblr at secretlyhawkeye if you want to chat!

Much love,

Stephanie


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